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SUMMER
CHAPTER 2
Was that for real?
Did that man just tell me he wants to paint and mark my naked body, that is after he covered every inch with his tongue? Is that what he just said?
He scorched me, grabbed me by the hair, and held me prisoner. With only his eyes, his words, and the sound of his voice. And that fantasy. Was that a fantasy? He doesn’t really do that to women, does he? Does he really want to do that to me? And let me do it to him?
That was the absolute hottest thing I’ve ever heard in my life! And he wants to do it to me!
No he doesn’t, he said he was teasing. Was he serious?
What just happened? Did that just happen? What was that? Who was that?
Stupid girl, it was the guy you’ve been drooling over since you first found this place.
Him. Everything him, all that, whatever that is. I stare at him as he leaves, the tall stranger in black, black midnight hair, black scruff, black ink, black jeans, black t-shirt, black motorcycle boots, big black leather wallet on a chain. And silver, the rings, and the two hoops, one hanging from each ear. His hands were big and strong, long fingers, perfect for finger painting…on skin…bare skin.
Damn, damn, damn!
That face, flippin’ perfect! Sinfully chiseled cheekbones, strong jaw to nibble on, and his voice, God, his voice is hypnotizing. Soooo much hotter in the flesh! His eyes…dark and hard, yet penetrating. And that mouth, those lips, what would those lips do, how would they feel, how would they taste?
Did he check me out?! And that BULGE! Hugehugehuuuuuuuge!
My mouth goes completely dry just thinking about it, and the obvious effect on me in my moist panties.
I wonder what else he might have pierced.
A fresh wave of heat shoots through me at the thought.
SHITSHITSHIT.
He said he’s coming back tomorrow, I wonder if he’ll be all dressed in black again, if his jeans will fit him just as perfectly, hug that ass like it is now (I can’t tear my eyes away), grip it like my hands want to…
Stop it! You’ve got a business to run.
The sobering thought brings me back to reality and clears my head. But only a little. I quickly scan the customers to see if anyone heard the conversations, starting with Steve, and especially the wonderfully wicked fantasy, it was a fantasy, pretend, wasn’t it? I wonder if my reaction to that man is glaringly obvious on my face. I feel like a kid who just got caught kissing in school, wanting to giggle and hide at the same time.
My mind is a jumble of confusion, tumbling in a chaotic rolling boil of lust. I don’t know what to think first. Was he being vulgar with the things he said? Do I like how he stuck up for me when Steve was being a dick?
Tattoo Man had Steve pegged, he is a total dick. But I handled him, I’ve been handling him since he first stepped foot in here. I don’t need saving.
Steve’s always been a condescending ass. He’s handsome, appears to be successful, but there’s just something about him. Something that triggers familiar things, uncomfortable things, things I never want to think about.
I bet Steve doesn’t want to draw all over a naked woman, cover every inch, every piece of bare flesh, use her like a canvas? That’s what Mr. TD&I, said (Mr. Tall, Dark, & Inked). That’s what he wants to do.
With me.
The image of the man in black smashing Steve in the mouth brings a smile to my face though. But I’ve been around those kind of men all my life, I know what a possessive man is like. That’s enough to shove an ice cube down my hot panties.
No thanks. I can take care of myself.
He asked if I thought he was bad? No, not bad. Honest, yes. Tough, yes. Dominating, absolutely. But dominating men don’t paint and draw on a naked woman, do they? They only keep her like a thing, expect her to be his slave, then beat her if they feel like it. If she deserves it.
No thank you!
A man who wants to make her his masterpiece wouldn’t beat her, use her, debase her.
